Hello my faithful blogowers. My have things been busy! My computer died, so I've been using my little sister's computer. However, she is always gone with State FFA and takes her computer with her, so my access to the outside world is limited. That sucks. My other little sister had her baby and I can't seem to get enough snuggle time. By the end of August I'll be in Bozeman again and I'm both excited and nervous. Excited to be back among friends, but nervous that they way things have been so difficult will continue and my last refuge of sanity will be tainted. By Daneesha's wedding is on the 18th and I am very excited for it! Hopefully my computer will either be fixed or replaced by the time school rolls around.

Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice

Family reunions are such awkward affairs. When we were children they were great fun. The cousins would come over to play with and grandma would have Pepperidge Farm reject cookies and plenty of Feature Films for Families to watch. As we got older, however, it got less fun. Now that most of us are in marrying age, it's just downright awkward. There's nothing much else to do but talk, which gets old after the first 45 minutes, and then you just sit there making polite sounds and waiting for it to be over. Then there is the joy that comes from introducing your future eternal companion to (dum DUM dum) the family. This particular brand of awkwardness is short lived, as the family members usually spend a great deal of time peppering the intended with questions about who they are. However, it makes things a bit more difficult for the other cousins who have yet to find their own intended, because there are the inevitable looks and pointed hints about what's taking you so long. Not to mention that family reunions are in Preston, the barnacle on the butt of Idaho.
I felt my sister's very pregnant belly the other day. The baby was squirming around so it looked like a scene from Alien. Felt absolutely disgusting. Then the baby girl got the hiccups. THAT was adorable. The entire belly shakes. My sister hates it because it hurts, but the idea of a tiny baby with hiccups is so cute...She's certainly taking her time getting here...the naughty little mooch.

Stupid Insects

My friend Caleb is serving a mission in the Philippines and his last letter mentioned they had resolved their cockroach problem. Cockroaches are so disgusting. The spawn of satan I tell you. During my high school trip to Mexico, the hallways of the hotel would be covered in cockroach carcasses in the morning. COVERED. Every morning. When I lived in Hawaii, I was in the room alone one day and noticed a cockroach the size of a small horse was sneaking around. Since it was obviously far too big to squash with a plastic flip-flop, I found the hale's can of aersol poison. I chased that cursed thing all over that room, spraying it every time it landed somewhere. This was not a silent chase of death. I squealed and yelped every time it came near me. Next door I could hear our two Samoan neighbors laughing. No doubt they were laughing at me, the pansy white girl who can't handle one little cockroach. The flying devil finally hid in some little crack where I couldn't get at it. The room was one big fog of poison, so I left for a bit so I didn't asphixiate myself. Come to find out, the cockroach was giant because it was going to be a mommy. Instead, me and my roomate had to deal with the hordes of tiny little cockroaches crawling over everything.
We never had to deal with these in Idaho. The closest we got were those spindly legged Box Elder bugs, the ones with the red-orange lines on their black wings. I hate those things. They covered the granparent's house and always threatened to sneak inside or swarm you. The houseflies DID swarm you, or so it felt. There were alway so many in the house it looked like the ceiling fan was black, instead of white. You quickly learned to sleep with your entire body under the covers and the make sure there weren't any holes the flies could crawl in. To this day I can't sleep unless my head is covered.

Aa-choo!

So Memorial Day evening I went back up to Driggs with my mom. This week went by so fast, considering all I've done is sleep in and watch old cartoons on Boomerang (the greatest channel ever). Yesterday I babysat for Natalie again. Her and Roger drove to Salt Lake to pick up their daughter from the airport and I stayed with their son. I was there until 4am but luckily Dawson was asleep by 10pm, so a great deal of time I was sleeping as well. My nose was ridiculously stuffy while I was there and by the time I went home, I knew I had a cold. So I feel like crap. Fitting, considering the weather, which is also crappy. The stupid thing about a cold is that I'm starving, but can't taste anything and nothing sits well on the stomach. Bleh. C'mon immune system! Fight!

Congratulations graduates!

My baby sister graduated from high school on Thursday. She wasn't hard to miss among the mass of blue and white clad graduates, she was the only one with the sketch pad and furiously moving pencil. Her row was passing candy back and forth, which I thought a smart idea, and Sidnee even answered a text message I sent her. But really, graduation isn't for the students, just like a wedding reception isn't for the couple. It's for the family. It was trippy to think she's officially an adult now. It was also strange to talk to my friends. They all have kids now (except me of course), but for whatever reason it was wigging me out that night. My brother's friends are starting to come home off their missions and Shay only has about 6 months left. Weird.

Horses can be a pain in the butt

So today, after it stopped raining, I decided to walk up the hill and pick through the piles of junk and see if I could find anything interesting. I did find an old license plate from 1935 (very cool). I also discovered that I'm more out of shape than I thought. Meh, who cares. By far the most disgusting thing I found was a giant collection of rock chuck turds in an old piece of machinery. It was far and away the largest collection of doo-doo I've ever seen (and that includes the pile of bunny poop we had when we had a bunny. We no longer have a bunny. Many years ago the dog got a hankering for a bit of bunny and ate it). You would not believe the amount of poop I saw. Gross. So I walked further up the hill, past the fence keeping the stinky cows at bay and sat under a tree and read for an hour or so. Once I came down, I followed my dad around while he set up some kind of fence for the horses around a pasture. Then me and Sidnee were supposed to get the horses into the pasture. Four of the horses did what they were supposed to (though they were brats about it) but Zack's colt ran around for who knows how long evading capture. I thought it was quite funny and enjoyed myself, but my dad (who has had a crappy week anyways) was really frustrated. It is supposed to rain all weekend (booo) but then get sunny (yeay) so I want to keep walking up the hill to read. Mmmmmm.

Cumpleanos Feliz.....

Sidnee turned 18 today. In three months I will be 26. Rather depressing actually. And I noticed lately that the more I try to just be myself and not do or think or say things based on other people's reactions, I get ridiculed more. Retarded huh? How many times do we tell people that if you're yourself, other people will like you more than if you tried to be what they wanted. That is not true. When you are yourself people like you because you aren't as stressed and you're happier, but they don't like you better than if you were trying to please them, because (hello) if you're doing whatever makes them happy, then they are obviously happy and like you. But then deep down you don't like yourself. It's all so retarded. And most people don't even reach the point where they are truly themselves. They have been playing a part so long, they eventually believe it's who they are and then wonder where this underlying depression is coming from. But I have soooooo reached the part where I could care less about what other people think. I mean, I've always been the type of person who marched to the beat of their own drum and that's why I've never fully fit in anywhere, ever. But there was always a part of me that looked at all these people getting the dates and their college degrees and the jobs and I thought, well if they are getting all of this and I'm not then I must be doing something wrong. I let other people do the thinking for me and at the same time, still tried to maintain my identity. And as the scriptures say, "A house divided against itself cannot stand." So now I'm not just marching to the beat of my own drum, I'm dancing to it. So what if being myself means other people don't like me and I'm constantly getting dirty looks (and boy how I attract them)! So what if being myself means I don't get dates (it gets annoying when you're nagged about this)! I don't want to date people who are looking for a clone to date anyways (and boy do those clones rake in the dates). And the next time someone harps about why I'm still single, I'm going to tell them the Lord hasn't found anyone good enough yet. ((Can you tell I'm a little tired of being reminded about my marital status and tired of people telling me how weird I am? If I counted how many times a day people told me I'm weird and gave me 'that look', I'd have to start using the toes and fingers of other people.)) So the more I try and be myself, the more I irritate people.
Anywhosits, I've been having some seriously whack dreams. They fall into two categories. One, they are about people in Bozeman attacking me (verbally or physically) and I'm always mystified as to why. And if I try and convince someone in the dream that so and so is a complete jerk, they don't believe me. For example, the other night a certain person (who shall remain nameless) was being a witch with a capital B, but every time I tried to tell someone, they just got mad at me for lying. Two, dream people who bear no relation to anyone in reality are trying (literally) to kill me, usually because I'm trying to do something noble, like save babies. We're talking about violent dreams here people. So vivid that when I get on Facebook, I blur my vision so I don't see certain profile pictures of certain people because they abused me so terribly in the dream. Thoughts of returning to Bozeman were the only things keeping me going recently, but now it terrifies me. These dreams are so horrible, I'm afraid to go to sleep at night. (Come to think of it, I've been afraid to go to sleep so many times in the past three months it's amazing I've gotten any sleep at all.) Then again, sanity is overrated.

um...yeah...okay

The other day Olive was telling me how she was too afraid to drive in California traffic when she first got here and one day she needed to go to the store, but it was right during rush hour traffic (if 1950 traffic could be called "rush hour"). Anyways, she asked her husband to take her because she was afraid of getting into an accident. He threw her the keys and told her to go herself and that she'd be fine. Just before she left he added, "But don't take the dog."
Then today they had a special stake conference. Not entirely sure why they called a stake conference to tell ppl the focus is changing from "Proclaiming the Gospel" to "Gathering Israel", but I digress. Elder Trythall, a member of the Seventy, spoke and told a story of when he was the mission president of an Eastern European mission. Apparently, there were two teaching elders who brought two investigators to their district leaders to be interviewed for baptism. They left the investigators in the apartment and went somewhere else outside to give them privacy. (Something like that.) Anywhosits, the teaching elders noticed that the interview was taking a really long time and they were worried that something was wrong, so they go back upstairs to the apartment. Inside, they couldn't see the investigators and the district leaders told them they were outside on the balcony discussing marriage. The district leaders, in the course of their interview, had discovered that the man and woman weren't legally married and that in order to be baptized, they had to be legally married. After the district leaders finished chastizing the teaching elders, the teaching elders said, "Of course they aren't married. They've never met each other. They're from two different cities." Elder Trythall said the part he liked best about the story was that the two strangers were out on the balcony actually discussing marriage. He said, "So think, how great is your faith next time you get a hard assignment?"
Thought these were kinda funny and thought I'd share...

"Pow" was the fourth Rice Krispie elf--apparently he sucked

My body thinks it's time to quit. It wants to sleep in without worrying about getting pills or cleaning spills or constant driving driving driving. It wants a vacation from life. The weather here has been nice, and I'm sure I'll be missing it when I'm freezing my butt off in Ideehoe, but I am willing to make the sacrifice. I'm getting a little worried about Bozeman, however. Have I mentioned that already? I had a nightmare that everything has changed too much, that I've changed too much, and that I won't fit in anymore, that the parade of life has marched on and I've lost my spot. In the dream everyone was like hyper and uberly (almost obnoxiously) outgoing and I was standing there watching everyone in everyone elses' faces and no one was paying attention because they were too busy trying to be the center of attention. Then the ward split into two groups: one popular and one unpopular, and I was obviously in the latter and for whatever reason was stuck having dodge balls thrown at me. I hate dodge ball, have ever since elementary school. You know you weren't popular because they threw the balls really hard at you. Remember Heads Up Seven Up? You wanted to be the one picking people because you could pick the guy you were secretly crushing on and he would be FORCED to look at you. On the flip side, you always dreaded getting picked by the smelly weirdo who picks his nose because then you know he LIKES you! Shudder. And remember reading the valentine's cards and candy hearts and making sure the person you liked got the best ones and the people you REALLY didn't like got the worst ones so they wouldn't think you liked them? Heavens, children shouldn't be analyzing relationships that early in life. On a lighter note, I dare you to find someone who didn't witness a recess wedding ceremony with a dandelion bouquet. The two who got married in my elementary school got sent to the principals office. Lame administrators.

Dear Spongebob, I ate Squidward. Sorry.

Well, yesterday was a tough day. I had to drive quite a ways to get Olive to her hearing aid doctor. The office was in one of those shopping centers with the crappy Mexican restaurant, the Chinese acupuncture clinic, the barber shop with the spinning pole, and the dreary looking Jewish banquet hall. Olive lives in a rather wealthy neighborhood with big houses and fences and alarm systems. The office was in a neighborhood with very small, old houses with taped windows and surly looking people. Scary. The doctor had a dozen degrees and awards up on the wall, but when he came into the waiting room to get Olive, I shrank away. He looks fairly normal and I'm sure he's a very nice man, but one of those people you just get a creepy feeling from and you watch his every move with wary distrust. He adjusts her hearing aid and tells her she needs to wear it every day so that her brain gets used to hearing again. When we leave the office, I call our friend Margo to let her know we were heading to the restaurant to meet her for lunch. Olive, while I was on the phone, kept saying, you're shouting you're shouting. Finally, once I hung up, I asked her what she meant. "You guys are shouting at me. It sounds like you are shouting." I remind her that I was talking in a normal tone of voice, but it sounded like I was shouting because she wasn't used to hearing anything. She was furious and insisted that me and the doctor were lying to her and shouting. I told her, again, that I have shouted at her for months now and with the hearing aid was the first time I haven't had to. So we get in the car to head to the Chinese restaurant in Van Nuys (which looks like it's pronounced Van New-eeees but is apparently pronounced Van Eyes). The entire way Olive is fuming because it's all so loud and apparently we were doing it to annoy her. I finally make it to the restaurant safely (woo hoo) and lead Olive inside where Margo is waiting. The restaurant isn't some Americanized Chinese restaurant. It's as close to Hong Kong style food as you can get without being IN Hong Kong. Everyone in there is Chinese, speaking Chinese, and eating with chopsticks. There are whole ducks hanging in the roaster and entire chickens sitting under heat lamps. Not to mention the chicken legs and intestines and stomachs sitting in broth. Gag. We just let Margo order whatever and when it came, I ate it with chopsticks to be as authentic as possible. The fried rice had roast duck in it and though it was a little salty, it is the best freaking fried rice I have had since Food Fest at BYU-Hawaii! There was also a platter of "crispy noodles" topped with gravy and roast pig, chicken, and pieces of squid. Yes, that's right. Squid. I ate a big bite of the white squid meat (which wasn't as bad as I was expecting, but certainly not good. Kind of like Vegemite). Then I decided to be daring and eat a tentacle, complete with the little suction cup things. Ladies and gentlemen I'm here to tell you that was one of the most disgusting things I've ever done. The taste was salty and fishy, but the worst part was the texture. It was like eating a finger, rubbery on the outside and something crunchy and hard on the inside. I didn't finish eating the rest of the tentacles. The third platter was some kind of stir fry in soy sauce with rice noodles and BBQ beef. It was all pretty good, except the crispy noodle dish. Olive started the meal furious and snapped at us not to discuss her hearing doctor visit. She was so angry me and Margo were silent for a while, until Olive said something about the restaurant being nice. I thought it was rather funny that she was telling Margo how nice it was when during the ride she kept saying, "Where is Margo taking us?" and was afraid that a "real Chinese restaurant" was going to serve nothing but raw fish. After dinner she asked if we were going to get a fortune cookie. A word to the Americans: fortune cookies are not Chinese. After lunch we walked next door to the Asian supermarket where I bought some Chinese cookies and crackers for the family. The store was like being in China. The music was Chinese, the announcements were in Chinese, many items only had Chinese labels, and most of the patrons were Asian. (I was surprised at the amount of caucasians there, however.) The meat department had tons of dead fish on ice and tons of live crabs, shrimp, oysters, clams, and lobsters. Ewwww. Olive opened a package of cookies to eat while we walked around and we ate some. Really good actually. Margo kept pulling things out that was popular to Chinese people and I kept making faces. I mean, shrimp flavored crackers? I think I want to hurl. And cookies with green onion and sesame seeds? But at least it was an adventure! Olive was slightly panicky about me finding my way home, but despite the terrible traffic, we made it home just fine. The rest of the day sucked massively, but I'm certainly finding out how much crap I can deal with, aren't I? People keep telling me it means something good is going to happen, and I think, 'Can I pick my prize? Like you do at the dentist's office?' But in a little over a week I'll be out of here! Woot woot!

Today's Blurbage

This morning Olive had a dentist appointment. I really hate dentists, as I may have mentioned, and sitting in the waiting room for that long, hearing the sound of sucking and drilling, made me very antsy. I kept expecting the door to fly open and dentists to come in and drag me to a chair. We were only there an hour and afterward went across the street to the mall, where Olive wanted to get a new top and white pants. Those poor sales people. Once we made it home I immediately took a long, much needed nap. I think the current events of my life are giving me an ulcer. Oh goody.
(The word blurbage comes to you today from Jessica Allen. Thanks to her for letting me steal it.)

Enter big long sigh here

So yesterday Olive wanted to go out, again, and as usual it was impossible for her to make up her mind where she wanted to go. We finally ended up at some Chinese-ish restaurant with food that tasted about the same as every other Chinese-ish restaurant in America, despite the fact that the people working there were actually Chinese. At the end of the meal I opened my fortune cookie (which is NOT Chinese) and I kid you not, one side was in English, the other was in Spanish. Need I go into how many things are wrong with this? First of all, it is a CHINESE restaurant, not a Mexican restaurant, so shouldn't any translations be in Chinese? Better yet, don't translate it at all. Glory. For some reason, during the meal my voice left, and Olive insisted on talking, so I kept having to lean across the table to get her to hear me.
After lunch, we were headed home (due to Olive's instructions) and we had JUST reached the corner where we turn to head to the house and she decides she wants to go walk around Poo Park. Sigh. Fortunately, by four in the afternoon I could have time to myself and make sweet bread for the missionaries.
Today's church was great, with one exception. Since it's my last official Sunday, the bishop surprised me with bearing my testimony in sacrament. Not so nice considering all that's been going on. But the rest of it was really good. I come home and almost immediately fall asleep, with my feet hanging off the bed and my shoe falling off. I wake up to hear Olive on the phone talking to Dorothy about how I just "walked in, said hi, and went upstairs". How rude of me (apparently). She's easily offended and even partially invents things to be offended at.
Anyways, as I type this, I'm watching the three lawn-destroying rabbits literally roll around in the dirt and play leap frog with each other. Ever seen a rabbit jump over another rabbit? I should sell tickets.

The first in-flight movie was shown in 1925.

At Poo Park...AGAIN!

To begin, I am completely aware of Freud's theory that dreams regarding orthodontia indicate sexual frustration. Freud is full of crap. Last night I had one of my recurring dreams that consist of my teeth crumbling into tiny bits, so that I spit up handfuls of teeth and teeth parts and spend a great deal of time trying to shove the teeth back into my head. Why? Because I know if anyone notices that my teeth are falling out, they will take me to a DENTIST!!!!! Even in my dreams I'm deathly afraid of DENTISTS. I debate whether or not I should just jerk the teeth out so that they'll stop crumbling into tiny pieces and I'm always looking over my shoulder to see if any dentists are approaching. I really hate these dreams and they seems to attack during periods of my life that are stressful. (Why I got one last night is beyond me since my life is soooooo unstressed for the last, oh, 4 months. Har har.)
At any rate, I've been ill the past few days, including massive body pains, and I've been doping myself with ibuprofen and trying to sleep...trying but failing. If I try and nap during the day, Olive pesters me with questions of "Are you okay?" and "Is this normal?" (Yes and yes.) So I hide upstairs to sleep. This means I actually GET sleep, but eventually she realizes where I am and calls up, "Are you okay?" Sleeping at night is almost impossible because everything hurts so badly, so I'm quite dependent on a nap in the afternoon. Anyways, this is the third time Aunt Phlo has visited while I've been in California, but each time Olive is surprised by it all and all but flips out. I spend 90% of the day assuring her I don't need a doctor, that cramps and fatigue and body aches are normal, and that I just need some time to rest. Showing concern for someone and offering help is great and much appreciated. Showing so much concern that you never leave them alone and they have no time to get better and instead constantly have to reassure you that this is not anything dramatic and you aren't coming down with cancer or something is not. Praise the heavens, she went to lunch with neighbors today and didn't get back until almost 2pm. She had been home no more than ten minutes than she wanted to get out and go somewhere. This is a common conversation. She asks me what I want to do. I say I'm content with reading my book and enjoying the weather. She says I must be so bored/depressed/anxious and want to get out and go somewhere. I say no, but if SHE wants to go somewhere, I will take her wherever she wants to go. "No, you're the one feeling depressed, so let's go wherever YOU want to go." (It seems whenever I try and read a book, she thinks I'm depressed. I have absolutely no idea why. It's very strange.) So I try and insist that I am perfectly fine and that if SHE is depressed and eager for a drive, then SHE needs to say so. I'm not going to fake depression just because she's too proud to admit it in herself. Anyways, today she fell asleep before the conversation could finish and so I tiptoed outside to let her sleep. About four o' clock I assumed (ha!) that she'd abandoned the idea of some kind of trip and went upstairs to lay down for an hour. No sooner had I gotten upstairs than she called up saying "Let's go for a walk!" And so we drove to the Poo Park yet again.
Now, every time we go there, we walk half way around the park and sit on a bench until she gathers enough energy to walk back. On weekends the park is usually full of people playing with their dogs and talking with other dog owners. The cops will come around when it's full and drive (yes drive) along the sidewalk to make sure people are obeying the posted leash law. First of all, I think it's kind of retarded to have the dogs on a leash in a park that was designated as a dog park and that they are endangering lives by driving along a sidewalk frequented by children and animals. Secondly, I find it funny to watch everyone scrambling for their dogs and then stand silently and watch the cop car drive by, pretending as if their dogs had been on a leash the whole time. It's really funny to watch the dogs that know they're about to be leashed and stay out of reach of their masters, who are getting more and more panicky the closer the cops get. As soon as the cops leave, the leashes come off and everyone discusses the "BS" of the law and the cops. Today, as we were sitting on a bench watching the dogs play, a cute little scruffy dog comes running up with a frisbee in his mouth, wanting me to throw it. I'm playing tug o' war with him and notice the cops getting closer, so his owner says, "Keep him there! Keep him there!" And comes walking over to pick up his dog until the cops pass. We feign innocence by chatting and I find out the dog is a chihuahua/poodle and only two years old, his name is Buddy and his owner is Dan, who is originally from Maryland. By this time, the cops are gone and a nice older couple have come to the bench and the two men begin talking while I play with the dogs. Soon they leave and Olive and I are left alone. Here's where the funny part comes in. No sooner had the people left than Olive says, "He liked you. He had his eye on you." This is funny for two reasons. One, she can't see, had sunglasses on, as did he, so how on earth could she see that he 'had his eye on me'? Secondly, every male human under the age of 40 that I talk to or about, she automatically assumes there is some sort of romantic attachment. First, my friend Seth becomes, in her mind, my "fiance". Then my friend Brad becomes by "boyfriend". The more I spend time with him the more she starts discussing marriage. Then some random stranger in a dog park has the hots for me. It's as if there are no other possible relationships between males and females. Generally her harping on my single status evolves into one of two possibilities. Either she begins talking about all the people she has dated (this consists of a lot of name dropping) or she goes off on how exciting my life is going to be, how quickly I'm going to get married and how my children are going to grow up to hate each other and fight. Not joking. You want to talk about birth control, just let Olive tell you how horrible it is to be a mother and how your children will grow up to be disappointments. How helpful. But being a mother isn't acceptable anyways, you know. You're supposed to have a very successful and high status career instead. Not just any career mind you, one that makes you rich and famous and pretentious and irritating and endows you with the right to look down your nose at everyone else. Anything short of this is a grave disappointment. Sigh.
Her negativity is almost cancerous at times. I've noticed it has rubbed off on me and is pretty much sucking the life out of me, like the Deatheaters in Harry Potter. I decided that every time she tries to talk about something depressing or negative, I'd change the subject to something good or happy or at least neutral. Today, as we were driving to the dog park, she starts in on Islamic treatment of women, again. So as soon as she reaches the end of a sentence, I jump in with an interesting tidbit I'd read about Christ in the book Jesus the Christ, thinking the Savior is a good uplifting topic. Does she comment on the interesting and happy tidbit? No, she starts in on all of the horribly depressing things that happened to the Savior. So I interrupt with something like, it's not good to always focus on the bad things that happened, but the wonderful things that He did. Honestly. Tonight, after reading two chapters in the book aloud to her, she once again starts in on how sad it is that "the commandments are so simple and yet people argue about it and make it so complicated". I try and explain that Satan wants it that way because if it's complicated, people will stop doing what's right. I also mention that although the commandments are fairly simple, people still have a hard time following them. In my head I was thinking, "Hint! Hint! Hint!" and was about to say something about how simple it is NOT to take the Lord's name in vain and how often people do it (hint hint hint) but I kept my mouth shut. I swear this place is a black hole for anything mentioned in the 13th Article of Faith. I've been saying arrgghh so much I sound like a pirate.

It helps if you turn your computer on...

So I'm pretty sure I saw Simon Pegg today. I was driving down Wells towards Target and saw a guy walking down the sidewalk. Since I am such a rubbernecker for the slightest thing, I stare, wondering where he was walking to. Then my eyes widened and I thought "Oh my gosh it's Shawn of the Dead!" I almost ran off the road I was trying to get a better look. I swear it was him, but when I googled him, it said he lives in England, so what was he doing in Woodland Hills? After Target, I took Olive to what I have begun calling the Poo Park. She loves walking around an old haunt and seeing (kinda) the dogs people bring. I think it's a bit masochistic to let strangers flaunt their dogs in front of you when you want one of your own so badly. Then over dinner she randomly told me this story of when she brought a piece of chalk on the bus and marked up this little boy's coat. The next day his mother got on the bus and yelled at her "for an hour" and she "cried and cried and boy, she KEPT me cryin'!" I thought that was funny.
So about a week ago I read Olive the book Our Search For Happiness by Elder Ballard. She gushed on and on about how wonderful the book is. It's basically just a brief overview of LDS beliefs, but since she is all but apostate, she found all of it new and exciting. So I decided that since she enjoyed that one so much (and since it made her happier and stopped all the depressing talk for a while) I'd start to read her Jesus the Christ by James E. Talmage. Fascinating book, though I think he could have toned down the pretentious vocabulary a bit so Mom and Pop Mormon can better understand what it is he's trying to say. While I was reading it to her tonight, a brief "A-Ha!" thought sprinted across my mind, one of those thoughts that you file in the Personal Revelation drawer. It briefly stopped my reading because I haven't had anything like that (at all) in weeks! Unfortunately, I couldn't stop to mull it over because I was reading aloud to Olive. It was one of those thoughts/feelings (feeloughts? theelings? thouelings?) that race through your mind so fast, it's almost like it never happened, so now that I'm finally alone, I'm left to try and mull over something that I can barely remember. If that makes any sense.
Do you want to hear something cool? Today I picked up a box of Bandaids and noticed that the label had braille writing on it, so that a blind person could pick up the box and tell what it is. Is that not cool? They do it for Spanish speakers, why not for the blind? Imagine if they did something for the deaf and you got yelled at by a box of Twinkies?

Gooey gooey gumdrops

Aunt Phlo M. Sucketh, the vindictive wench, has sucked all the energy out of me today. I get exhausted walking up the stairs and have to take massive naps to just get through the day. Poo on her. On a lighter note, I finished my book on the Russian spy. Really good. Rekindles my interest in politics again, but unfortunately I won't be able to get into school until August, hopefully that is. Now I've started a book on Bonnie and Clyde. Oh, books. You are my salvation!

Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?

Aunt Phlo M. Sucketh is kicking down the door and I'm afraid I have no choice but to let her in. I had such a horrible week this past week, but after a very long night of praying, I FINALLY felt a bit of peace. Then Aunt Phlo decided to make me feel like crap today, so I spent most of it sleeping. I made sure Olive had lunch, then took a nap, then made sure she had dinner and her pills, then needed to sleep again. Now I'm hungry, which is better than feeling nauseated. I feel bad that she was pretty much alone all day, but I really needed the rest. Consequently, there's pretty much nothing to put in my blog. I'm reading a book called "Comrade J: The untold secrets of Russia's master spy in America after the end of the Cold War." It's amazing! I feel bad for the Russian people, having such corrupt leaders and consequently being so far behind the rest of the First World countries. I'm sure the government doesn't mind them being behind. Russia has incredible strength and resources and if they got their crap together, they'd be more powerful than the US. (Same goes for Brazil.) But the book goes into detail about the kinds of information stolen and who gave it to the Russians and all that. Apparently many of the people who have passed information are still in their government jobs and of course denied the book's contents. So exciting this book.

My Shopping Spree!

My two new shoes! The pair on the right looked Mediterranean. Not so long ago I would've thought they were old lady shoes.
These are cute with jeans!
My new shirts!
On the edges of one shirt.
New earrings and new ring.
Baby shoes I bought for Kendra's baby!

Stoned Italian Cowboys

I think I was Buddhist in a former life. I really hate the snails here, but when I accidentally step on one, I feel like such a terrible person. And the lizards are annoying little buggers, but I seeing a dead one makes me ill. I can't kill bugs, except flies and mosquitoes, and I CERTAINLY can't kill anything else, although today was a really bad day and I about wanted to throttle Olive. I have sooooo given up trying to keep the house decently cleaned (as I may have mentioned before) and it is getting extremely hard to not say something when she whines about people or money or on and on and on.
There's really nothing to put in the blog today. I'm almost finished with a book entitled "Ireland's Pirate Queen: The True Story of Grace O'Malley". She sounds like an awesome person, but the book really makes you dislike the English. They've caused a lot of problems, haven't they?

Today's favorite song: Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. Awesome!!!!!

Don't pluck eyebrows when hopped up on Dr. Pepper

This afternoon Olive wanted to walk around this dog park she used to take her dog to. I thought, okay why not, and drove the short distance. As soon as I got out of the car, my nose was assaulted by the stench of dog poo in various stages of decay (or perhaps it was the smelly children in various stages of play?). There is a sidewalk around the outer edge of the park, with benches and two water fountains. Behind us was an elderly, very white man walking with a young black guy, who looked as though he was trying to down play his ghetto past. You know the type, awesomely styled hair like Jamie Foxx used to have (not cornrowed, but like ity-bity dreds). He had the oversized collared shirt hanging untucked over conservative shorts and tennis shoes. It was an interesting combination. They didn't walk very far, and the white guy was doing the driving. I like noticing little strange things like this.
As I was eating dinner, I was watching the rabbits eat the grass outside. Then I see this teeny-tiny little bunny, so small it could fit on my hand, come out of the bushes and start to eat. It was soooo cute! I hate how the rabbits strip the yard, and Olive hates them with a passion, but I can't chase them away. They're just trying to survive. How would I feel if some great beast kept chasing me away from the kitchen every time I tried to eat?
Did I tell you a bird flew in the house last night? Olive was on the phone and sat there laughing with Dorothy about my laughing/shrieking. Olive said, "I once had a rat in the house that bit my toe, so this isn't so bad." That was not encouraging.
Have you ever read the term "ghosting through the building" or something like it? I love the term, very descriptive, but this morning I actually saw it in action. I was at Ralph's picking up some groceries and glanced down the aisle just in time to see a tall man with very white hair float across my line of vision. At first I thought he was an albino and it was rather creepy how he seemed to just float. I wandered to the end of the aisle and down a bit to find him again to gawk. I admit, I wanted to stare just a few seconds at someone with albinism. I found the man, but he wasn't an albino, he just had white hair. Odd looking man, but it was still cool to see someone "ghost" through a store.

Bugs Bunny is a jerk

A bird just flew into the kitchen, with a little green worm in its mouth. This is why marriage is ordained of God-because men need to deal with gross things like this while the woman stands clear imagining the bird pooping on her head or getting all Alfred Hitchcock. Perhaps the bird was after my fresh Hawaiian Sweet Bread loaves. They turned out muy excellente! Something not so excellente? Today's shopping excursion. Olive has wanted to get a "funny birthday card" for Dorothy. The FOUR aisles at Target couldn't satisfy her, nor could the TWO aisles of cards at CVS pharmacy. Instead, we had to walk down the street to this dumpy Jewish mailing service and look at their selection of 10 cards, because that's where she always gets her cards. It was not a fun day. Call me crazy, but just because you're old doesn't mean you've "earned the right" to be snarky. You earn the increased patience of others, but you don't have free reign to be mean or demanding or all the other vices no one allows in younger people.
As I was cutting some potatoes to make Parmesan Potatoes for dinner, I realized that I don't like the "Butt Ends" of things. Bread, potatoes, sausage, bananas, hot dogs, etc. I always cut them off or leave them. Why is that I wonder?
I've had to watch Olive every time she gets near her mail. You see, there is a wonderful lady in the ward that comes over every week or two and goes through the mail and explains the bills and writes the checks and generally does all the finances. Olive, however, tends to open the bills and peer at them through her magnifying glass, even though she knows she can't see. If she thinks what she is looking at is unimportant or she doesn't understand it, she tears it up and throws it away. Today she tore up a big bill from her accountant and she was trying to tear up some very, very important papers for her husband's trust. Margo has told her that she tends to throw important things away and that she shouldn't throw anything away, just in case, but....So I went through some of the things she had bundled together and labeled "Davis" and found some things for the trust (not Davis's). She said something about having Margo just pay Davis's bills so they stop getting sent to the house and I said, nicely, "He's an adult. He needs to learn to take care of himself." She said, "He doesn't have any money." I bit my lip to not reply. First of all, don't get me wrong. Davis has been really, really nice and I'm so grateful. However, if he can afford a brand new iPad ($500) and applications ($10-20) then I'm pretty sure he can help with his bills. I don't begrudge people getting help from family, that's what family is for, but when you're too lazy to take care of yourself? I have a problem with that. She keeps worrying (surprise surprise) about him getting work so the studio she put money into will pay off. Yeah, about that. In order for things to happen down there, he should probably spend more time promoting it and finding clients than getting drunk and stoned with friends. This sounds terribly snarky and ungrateful of me, I know, and forgive me. I just find it very frustrating to watch certain types of people get an easy life handed to them, and then there's those of us who struggle to put food in our mouths. I would love an iPad. And a car. And a nice apartment. And to not worry about financial things 24/7, but I'm not about to bleed an old woman dry for it.
The missionaries came over Sunday night because I'd asked for a blessing at church. Poor boys. They probably have better things to do, but I couldn't get by without them. They're like watching a couple of children sometimes and it makes it like I have a family out here, instead of being stuck with a depressed stroke victim without relief. They always show up at the moment I need them most and they always have the perfect thoughts and scriptures I need to hear. So I told them what has been going on lately and asked for advice and what not and told them what I've been doing to fix things. There's always that wide eyed look, the one that says "Wow, that sucks." Then slowly things start to click together. Cute little Elder Ardiles (mi hermanito burrito) gave me advice his mom gave him when he was in similar circumstances. Then Elder Hessing had a thought that he didn't know how to put into words. Finally he was like, "I can't receive revelation for you, but perhaps you're going through this because sometime in your future will go through it as well, perhaps far longer than you, but you'll be the only one they can turn to because you can say 'I know how you feel'. Maybe a child or friend or your husband." That last one made me want to throw up. That thought scares me rather a lot. He repeated again that he can't receive revelation for me, "but what I just said feels right." I trust him. I'd kinda wondered about that briefly, but considering the significant lack of inspiration/revelation/companionship of the spirit I've been enduring the past few weeks I need to hear it from someone who DOES have the spirit with them. They gave me a blessing before they left and during it their cell phone kept going off. I thought it was a little funny. But after they left I felt better than I have in a while. We'll see how the rest of the week goes.

The wreaking ball knows your secrets

As I was walking outside tonight, I found three snails huddled together on the step. As this is not usual for snails to do, I leaned over for a closer inspection and discovered that they were feasting on the squashed remains of a fallen comrade. I find this disturbing, especially since it's all being done in slow motion. You can almost hear the sucking sounds as their goo digests the rancid remains. We warn children of the Boogeyman, snails warn their young of hungry friends and neighbors. (Don't you dare stop for a minute Little Johnny, or grandma will eat you!) It also brings a whole new array of meaning to "Keeping up with the Jones'." You keep up so you can take a bite of that mushy, mucusy backside. Yum. Getting me some Snail Tail.
I tried to make chilaquiles tonight for dinner. Epic fail. I think it's because I used enchilada sauce instead of tomato sauce and salsa like I've done before. And I put Velvetta'd hamburger in it, which was a waste of yummyness. It's been a while since I've had good, spicy Mexican, which is ironic considering how close I am to Mexico. Most people joke about Mexico taking over California, but around here it's being taken over by the Jews. Not so great in the culinary department. I peer over my shoulder guiltily when I look over the bacon and sausage at the grocery store. (It's kept in the far back corner of the store, which I find funny for some reason.)
I'm enjoying driving the Mini Cooper around. I don't like Minis I have decided, but it's fun to punch the gas at stop signs and hit 40 mph in like 4 seconds. I've gotten to where I can use the back roads instead of Ventura Blvd. Some of the houses on Wells Drive look like castles or gingerbread houses or something out of posh magazines. However, I have to not pay attention to the lush, beautiful gardens because it just makes me irritated that they steal water from the parched desert (and consequently the Native people) to pretend the desert of SoCal is a jungle. All that political crap about needing more water for the burgeoning population. Maybe if people worked with their environment, instead of fighting it, people wouldn't be panicking about the lowering water levels in the Colorado River and elsewhere. Elder Ballard wrote that governments are instituted of God and men and women will be held accountable for what they do with governments and within governments. Every time I read that I think of all the people who are going to have to do some serious explaining about the disastrous policies geared towards and affecting Native people. America can gripe about Obama and his health care plan all they want, but they have NO idea how ridiculous the American politicians can be. Ironic, in a way, how mainstream America is getting a small, almost inconsequential taste of what Native people have been dealing with for centuries. They're like the wizened elders looking on at the impetuous youth, nodding, and saying, "Yes, yes. I've seen this all before."
On an unrelated note, I realized today that 100% of my PSS (Priestood Support Service) either are serving an LA mission, or have served an LA mission. Hmmmm......

KEXP Song of the Day rocks!

I watched the second and third episode of Lost and was still so bored, so I'm not going to finish it. I really really really don't care what happens to those people. I wikipedia'd the gist of the episodes and I'm glad I stopped. Lame.
So last night I read Olive something her sister Dorothy sent, some stories about a great grandmother of some sort. Olive kept saying things like, "Can you imagine?" and "Isn't that interesting?" And I sat there thinking, "I don't find that side of the family interesting at all." Does that make me a bad person? I've never really been all that interested in that side. I've always both identified with and have been more interested in my mom's side. And the older I get, the more I care about that side as opposed to the other. Then again, Kendra is the complete opposite, so I suppose it all balances out.
So the toilet overflowed last night. I was making brownies and Olive was doing the dishes. (She doesn't do a great job, but I think it makes her feel like she's contributing, so I let her do them. And then I don't have to do them. Bonus.) She was saying the water wasn't draining in the sink and then I heard a tinkle of water in the bathroom in the next room. Lo and behold the floor was flooded and the toilet full of dirty water that smelled like butt. So I tried to plunge, but it was so full of water I couldn't get the thingy to plunge properly. So I had to take a bucket and cart the water outside. Then the buzzer rings because the brownies need to be checked, but I was trying to get the toilet stuff fixed, so I just took the brownies out even though they could have used a few more minutes. Unfortunately, the toilet wouldn't plunge, so I just tried to sop up the water off the floor and Olive called her plumber (who is originally from Argentina, but his mom was German, so he doesn't look dark at all). So I showered to wash all the poo water off me and my shoes and then had a brownie. Which kinda tasted like poo smell. But I have been eating them anyways because chocolate is God's gift to women, even if it's slightly pooey.

Kill Me!

So I watched the first episode in Lost, to see what all the fuss has been about. Could barely get through it. I had to force myself to finish the episode. I'm pretty sure the thingy in the trees is either 1) a dinosaur 2) an alien or 3) a crazy guy in a machine of some sort. Or maybe a giant race of primitive peoples. All four of those ideas however are LAME! I'm going to see if I can get through the second episode tonight. I was thinking maybe the first episode sucked because I kept seeing all these completely ridiculous medical things. For example, the pregnant woman who falls ON HER STOMACH on the beach when something blows up, but she's "okay" later on. I don't think so. And the doctor doing CPR for like 2 seconds and the lady (who had air blown into her stomach but for some reason didn't throw up-yeah right) is suddenly okay. When you do CPR on someone, their ribs separate. She didn't look like she had rib problems. And certain people were looking WAY too suspicious, so you can pretty much either kill them off or rule them out of anything related to the crash. I have a feeling this should have been a movie, not a TV series.
At any rate, after watching that and limewire-ing tons of songs, I said prayers before going to sleep. Yeah, knelt there so long I had like permanent imprints on my knees. Is it possible to pester God when you spend months and months for an answer to a certain question and still end up empty-handed? Bollocks.
I was in a relatively good mood this morning, then I got all these letters from student loans and realized how big a mess everything is because MSU Financial Aid office SCREWED ME BIG TIME when they sent my loan money back instead of using it to pay off the rest of my bill, LIKE THEY PROMISED THEY WOULD! May they have terrible smelly gas at inopportune times.
I am so done with my current situation I could scream. But then I remember that when I leave I'll have no money, no job, no nothing. I've done my share of nothingness in life. Kinda want to be spoiled and have a roof over my head and food in my fridge, to eat my fill instead of stopping and knowing I have to save some for later or I won't have any later on.
And I REALLY REALLY REALLY want to be around poor/average people again. You would not believe how tedious it gets to be around vain people who throw money around like toilet paper and put so much importance on social status until you want to give yourself a lobotomy. I really need to get out of here before I turn into a horrible person, if I haven't already.

Say wha? Oh no she di'n't!

I forgot to write this yesterday:
As we were walking into the medical center building for Olive's appointment, we passed by an elderly obviously Jewish gentleman. He was broad shouldered, but stooped, and wearing a nice black suit and black hat that reminds me of golfers. As we passed each other, he nodded politely and said, "Good mOrning" (with an emphasis on the O) in a slight accent. First of all, I felt like I was in Victorian England, where people actually greeted each other with good mornings. Secondly, no one in LA ever meets eyes, let alone greets a stranger. And he wasn't like a creeper either. I think it was because I had an old lady literally on my arm. People are more polite when they see me walking around with her. Maybe they can see the desperation on my face.
Today Olive wanted to go to Macy's to look for "white slacks". First of all, who wears white pants any more? So we drive down there and she's looking around and, as I suspected, there wasn't a whole lot of options. So I show her a few that I find and she keeps saying no, they're too heavy. Then I show her some that were actually cute (except for the fact they were white) in beautiful white material that was really light a flowy, which is what she kept saying she wanted. She didn't want those and kept asking if they make white jeans. I kept telling her yes they do, but they aren't going to be "light" and would be "heavy". We had this discussion like four times in that hour and a half. Each time it was: "They don't make white jeans do they?" "Yes they do but you said you wanted light material. Jeans aren't light." "These are heavy material." She points to her khakis. "Jeans are heavier than those." "I want something light." Wait about 20 minutes and repeat the conversation. You really do turn into a child when you get old. She insisted that Nordstroms was close to Macy's and I said it wasn't, but she wanted to walk down there and lo and behold, she got tired and said it was far away. Hmmmmm. I have also told her the pains in her neck and on her scalp are muscular, but she didn't believe me until the doctor said the EXACT SAME THING! And when I tell her she's doing great health wise, again she doesn't believe me until the doctor runs a bunch of tests and charges her a fortune and says the same thing. It's like kids when they don't believe you and have to get into trouble to prove you right. At least with kids you can be firmer and lay down laws.
On a different note, my books arrived from the Distribution Center. The other day I was sitting there reading Our Search for Happiness by Elder Ballard. It's a brief overview of what Mormons believe. Olive asked what I was reading and says, "Read some out loud." So I did. And today she had me read 3 more chapters. I knew it's been a while since she been really into the church, but I had no idea how far she's drifted. The book discusses basic beliefs, a Primary child could explain most of it, but she kept saying things like "How interesting" and "I didn't know that" and so on and so forth. She wants me to keep reading it to her and since the Christlike thing to do is to read, I will read. The whole reason for ordering the books was to bring more of the Spirit into the house, so....
On yet another different note, as it gets closer to leaving here (like 28 days) I get more excited, but I also get more and more nervous because I will quite literally have NO money, NO job, NO way to pay bills, and NO where to live.
Today's example of the blessings of tithing: my bank account went from less than $90 to $350. I've no idea how because there isn't anything new in the activity and everything seems to work out mathematically. Awesomeness.

Jews and Joints

Logan focusing very hard on his drums.

Logan rocking out with Davis. It was so cute to watch him following Davis around. And then he decided to take one of Olive's canes and destroy the flowers, bushes, and trees because he knew I was on the phone and couldn't come after him. Brat.

Davis on his drums in his studio.

An odd picture of Davis playing on his drums in his studio that smells like ganja. The smell makes me nauseated.



This morning Olive had a doctor's appointment and had to have blood drawn. Last night I got NO sleep, so I was a little short tempered and exhausted. Note the sickly pallor of my skin and the dark circles under my eyes. I was sooooo tired.
This is me falling asleep outside the restroom, waiting for Olive to leave a urine sample. The scarf is new. It's different looking, so I like it.My new Mezuzah. After the doctor's appointment, we went to eat and after that we walked into this Judaica shop just to look around. I asked them if they had those things that go on the door frame for protection. I saw it on Fiddler on the Roof and I've always wanted one. So I got the one above. And actually, a Mezuzah is the two chapters from the Torah written on a piece of paper that is rolled up and held inside this cute metal thing. The purpose is to remind people that God is One and to remind them that the holier they keep their house, the safer it will be. It also hangs as a reminder for when people are walking into the house: are they thinking thoughts or carrying an object that would offend God? The Hebrew letter is the letter Shin, for Shaddai, one of the biblical names for God.

Ever since I read Follow the Stars in elementary school, I've wanted a Star of David necklace, but I wanted it to be unique and not cheap and junky. At the Jewish store, the had a lot of the Hamesh hands (aka Hamsa Hand, Hand of Fatima, Hand of Miriam, Hand of God, Hand of Protection). They apparently protect against the evil eye and evil in general. Then I saw this one with the Star of David on it. The Star holds a lot of symbolism, my favorite being the number seven. It has 6 points, and a 7th in the center, reminding people of the six words of the Shema, and the 3+3+1 on the Menorah. Not to mention the fact that the number seven in the scriptures symbolizes completeness. So this necklace is like complete protection. And cool looking.

My chicken exploded

Once again, there is very little to say to my loyal blogowers. I'm dreadfully bored and sooo ready to be done with all of this. It's bringing out some not-so-nice things, like when Olive complains about how active her life was before and how she wants it to be that way again. I was sympathetic (empathetic?) about it when I first got here, but when she turns down opportunities to go out with friends and then complains about being bored, I lose my sympathy/empathy. And a very small part of me is thinking, yes your life may be a bit boring now, but you had a very exciting life and now it's other people's turn to have experiences. She keeps wondering why she didn't just "go" when she had her stroke because "it would have been easier" but then I think she's still here because (this may make me sound like a horrible person) she's a bit prideful in a LOT of ways and this has been a big humbling experience. Also, it has been a test (I think) for her family, to see how they handle it. Although it would be nice to have a grandparent leave me a trust fund, I look at all of this and am grateful I don't have everything handed to me. I don't want to be like that.
On a different note I'm dreadfully bored. I try and lose myself in a book or with story scribblings, but it's not easy to do when someone keeps calling you back to reality. Today she sat down and asked me what I wanted to do. I told her I wanted to sit on the couch and write. Then she kept insisting I must be bored and must want to go somewhere. I told her I didn't, but if SHE wanted to, we could, she just had to name it. "Well, I want to buy some white pants." (Eww) "And then we could have lunch somewhere." I replied, "Well, it's lunchtime now, so by the time you got ready to go, it would be past lunch time." She said, "I think I'm getting the feeling you don't want to go anywhere." "I already told you I don't, but I would drive you wherever you wanted to go." We've had many conversations like this. She wants to go somewhere, but refuses to admit it and tries to get me to say I want to go somewhere. Or she'll be feeling depressed and keep asking me if I'm "blue" or "down" and ask if she did something to upset me. I've learned that when she says this, it's because SHE is feeling down, but won't admit it. Everything may be wrong with everyone and everything around her, but heaven forbid she be less than perfect! See what I mean by problems with pride? You can be put in situations like this and it can refine your patience and compassion, but I think that after awhile, you use so much of your patience and compassion, than instead of refining it, you start to lose it. And your mind goes with it and soon you start to look like Helena Bonham Carter.
Speaking of which, I really like Juliet Binoche. She's pretty, but a normal person pretty. And I loved the hair of the chick who played Alice in the new Alice in Wonderland. Sigh....I'm so bored.

My soapbox ranting for the day

All day today I was thinking of things I wanted to blog, but now that I'm actually in front of my computer, my mind is a complete blank.
Olive's grandson Logan came over for a couple hours today. He's adorable, but spoiled as Hades and has a massive attention problem. He was carrying around one of Olive's canes and I said, "That cane is almost as tall as you are." He replied, "Well, I'm only five years old." Touche.
Davis had a band over to keep working on their recording. At one point, as I was waiting for Olive so we could walk down and get the mail, I looked out the window and saw one of them standing near the bushes in a particular stance. I thought, "Hmm, I've been around guys enough to know what that means." As Olive and I walked past, I looked at him with a serious face and said, "So, did you pee all over the bushes?" He got beat red and said, "No" in a very unconvincing way. I looked over at his friend, who was looking at him like "You are in so much trouble" then back at the red-faced tinkler and said, "Really?" Then I laughed and said, "Just kidding. I don't really care." And I really don't, so long as they don't pee on the patio furniture. If I were a guy, I'd pee outside. As we walked down the driveway, I heard his friend say to him, "Dude, you are so red." I laughed so hard. It probably would have been funnier to say something witty like, "If you're going to water the plants, could you do the flowers as well?" But my mind doesn't work that fast.
Olive and Dorothy are driving me nuts lately. Dorothy asked why I was leaving and I told her I wanted to get back into school and that I was really homesick for Bozeman. "But you don't get homesick," she said. "I know," I replied. "But I am now." Then she started asking me, again, what I'd planned on doing after graduation and, again, I lied and told her I didn't know, that I was just focusing on graduating. She has never been one to loudly voice her opinions and her opinion on how much greater it is to have a successful career than to be a mother is one I have heard many times. So I would rather lie and tell her I have no goal for the future, rather than try and explain that I just want to be a stay-at-home mom. Then she went off on my sister and her husband (again) about how his particular career choice will make them no money and how Kendra got pregnant instead of focusing on her career. That led to asking what my brother planned on doing. I told her he would probably go to school, but she said something along the lines of him not being a good enough student. So, to defend my brother, I told her the mission has really made him grow and taught him how to work and she replies, "Well, he can write a better thank you letter." It really irritates me to no end how certain members of that family will do something nice for someone, then expect and DEMAND that they thank them profusely in an appropriate manner. The Savior himself said people who do that have their reward and will receive none in heaven. I'd much rather not have anything from those people than to get something great and have to scrape and bow for it.
Speaking of gratitude, I overheard Olive talking to her friend this morning about their mutual friend Marsha. She was complaining that Marsha had only been over once to "ask a lot of questions" and then leave. True, Marsha is one of those forceful, 'my way or the highway' personalities, but she's actually been over to visit THREE times since I've been here, always bringing a treat and visiting with Olive for an hour. It really bugs me how Olive complains about how horrible Marsha is, then bad mouths her to others for "not visiting". Argh. And I'm getting very weary of hearing how wonderful her family is one second and then hearing how terrible it is that they aren't doing things the way she thinks they should be done. I really, really don't understand how someone has to be so in control of every detail of everyone's life. She HAS to know every detail about what is going on, how long it is taking, everything. At one point, when she was telling me all the things she was going to suggest to Stan about what they need to do about Jeffery, I finally had to tell her that the situation was between Fran, Jeffery, and his father and that they need to sort things out on their own and everyone else (I didn't say you but she got the hint) needed to stay out of it. You DO NOT force a man who wants nothing to do with his son INTO his son's life thinking that will solve everything. How traumatic would that be for the already depressed 13 year old boy. Good grief.
And aside from hearing about how everyone around her isn't good enough, I have to endure questions about what I'm going to do in the future, what I'm going to do to be "a success", as if being a normal person is something to be ashamed of. This is nothing, however, to the constant comments about marriage and family and how my children are going to grow up to hate each other (like her grandkids) and how imperfect everything is going to be. I had to bite my tongue to not reply that "unlike some people, I plan on raising my children in the church". What is it about the older generations that makes them consider you a failure if you aren't married and popping out babies by the time you're 20? And just because their family turned out to be a disappointment doesn't mean mine is too. Argh argh argh!
I really need to get out of here before I turn into a nasty, snarky person.

Act like Christopher and start Walken away

Well, hasn't today been interesting? Somewhere nearby a dog was yapping quite literally ALL NIGHT, so I had to turn on a fan and a movie to drown it out to sleep. Even when I did fall asleep, it was fitful, so that I woke up a little bit late to watch conference. Or so I thought. I forgot that if conference started at 10 in Utah, it would start at 9 here, so I missed 3/4 of the morning session. Then this afternoon I fell asleep half way through the session, so I'll have to do conference tomorrow. I wasn't feeling well last night and it only got worse today, so maybe I needed the sleep. Then I dropped my external hard drive that I've only had for 3 months and now it's not working properly. Great. For dinner we went over to Stan and Fran's for dinner. Logan was very hyper and in a rather bad mood. Then I was to drive the Mini home since we need it for Olive's appointment on Wednesday. For whatever reason, Olive was a massive worry wart tonight, worse than usual, and she was flipping out about me driving back, whether I was on the right road or taking the right turn. She kept saying, I don't know where we are, so I would tell her, but then she'd get confused again. I knew where I was, but she was so worried about everything, it was making me tense.
Having a light at the end of this tunnel has made things a bit harder. (Touche God.) I am SOOOOO excited to be out of here and back around my friends that I'm not as patient as I have been in the past. Olive's little comments about my marital status are bugging me more than usual, as are her comments about how beautiful I am and how easy it is for me to get dates, blah blah blah. I know I should be more grateful for comments like that, but I've really never like elderly people telling me "you're beautiful", probably because they use the same word for things that are most definitely not beautiful. And normally comments about my singleness wouldn't really bug me, but I suppose with everything that has happened and certain personal revelations (I hesitate to use that word, but I suppose that's what they are) and then the massive emphasis on families in conference today has just pushed the line a bit.
But as much as I'm looking forward to going back to Bozeman, I'm also fearing it. It's like I'm afraid to love it as much as I did before because I'm afraid it's going to get taken away from me again. I really don't think anyone understands how much it almost killed me to leave and to get back into it all again and then to have to leave because I can't find a job or school falls through again, I don't know if I could handle it again. Ugh ugh ugh. I haven't been this homesick for Bozeman or this desperate to leave California in a while now. Ugh.....

Are you pondering what I'm pondering?

Today's hated phrase: "Don't you think?" When this is put at the end of every other comment, it becomes quite tedious.

Last night, about 7 or so, Jessica called and asked if she could come over to watch a movie. Yeah, there was no movie watching. There was just constant talk until after midnight. It was so fun to talk with a girl about stuff again and to learn that there is someone out there who has the same insane quirks I do. Jess is so cute. Love her to death.

This afternoon was spent helping Brad move some stuff into a storage unit. I don't feel like I did a whole lot, but I also don't really care because I was enjoying myself. Now that I have a leaving date set and helping him get things somewhat moved has made me soooo antsy to leave! I can't wait to be around my friends and in Bozeman and IN CLASS! I want homework so badly! And I want to be able to chat with people in the ward again. Seriously, I don't think a lot of people there fully appreciate that ward!

Irritation is irritating

I was a bit irritated today, which meant a certain someone was getting on my nerves more quickly than usual. Especially when she went off on certain people being "geniuses" again, for the millionth time. According to her, just about everyone one that does anything in music, science, or anything besides what I am doing is a genius. Davis is a genius because he records music. Stan is a genius because he does the same. My sister is a genius because she is good at science. These people are not just smart or talented, they have honest to goodness genius IQs. I am very, very tired of hearing that word.
Then this afternoon, while she was napping, I decided to sit out on the lawn and enjoy the sun. A helicopter circled around for about 10 minutes, lowly, which was a bit freaky. I had been sitting there for about an hour, when Olive opens the screen door and yells out, "Kim? Are you still sitting there?"
"Yes," I answer.
"Don't get sick! You're going to get pneumonia from sitting on the lawn like that, and it's not good for the lawn! That's the worse thing you can do is sit on the lawn."
It continued like this until I finally got up and moved to the chair on the porch. Yelling, mind you, with a scowl and everything. And it was like 60 or 70 plus degrees outside. Argh.
But I noticed that since I have to half shout in order to be heard by Olive, I shout at everyone else too. It's like I've lost my sense of a normal tone of voice.
I got my FAFSA award notification and I'll have enough to go to school Fall, but I won't have enough to live in the dorms. So as long as they allow me to register for classes (BIG IF) and as long as I find somewhere to live, I'll be home!!! Big if. Keep your fingers crossed!

Homer, your butt's just given me an idea!

Thursday was quite uneventful, sadly, and I finally told Olive when I was leaving. For some unknown reason, she thought I was horribly depressed, despite the fact that I kept telling her I was fine. I just wanted to read my book, but she decided that to cure my depression we were going to clean out her closet. I have absolutely NO idea why she thought I was depressed. Maybe she was depressed and was projecting it onto me. Oh well. Only 36 more days.

In memory of the baby puppy :~(

What I feel like lately. Heaven help me.
Taking pictures of myself has become enjoyable. I need a life.
Elder Hessing is from Meridian and Elder Ardiles is from Chile. They act like brothers and sometimes like a married couple.
Elder Hessing and Elder Ardiles. I can't pronounce Ardiles so I call him Mi Hermanito. These two are so adorable it's very hard not to hug them.
Olive did NOT want her picture taken, but I did it anyways.

Good day ladies and gentlemen and welcome to today's list of BIG FAT FAILS. I will be counting down to the biggest FAILS in my life right now, but I couldn't decide which should be second and which should be first, so #1 and #2 are both #1 and #2. You'll see what I mean:
#10 Big Fat Fail: Me-I invited the missionaries and Brad over for dinner, but realized I didn't have any corn tortillas to make the enchiladas. I had to ask Brad (a guest) to come an hour early and bring them so I could make the dinner. Also I tried to iron the tablecloth. Still wrinkly. So I grabbed another one and put it in the dryer to get its wrinkles out. Then I just said screw it and put it on the table as it was. Olive can't see and chances are guys don't care.
#9 Big Fat Fail: Bunnies-for eating the lawn instead of the juicy carrots I threw out there for them.
#8 BFF: Computer disc drive-for not playing the DVD of Northanger Abbey I got from Netflix.
#7 BFF: Olive's former cleaning lady-she obviously wasn't doing a real great job because when I arrived there were so many spider webs around the legs of the table it looked like cotton candy. Not to mention all the other grossness I have to look at everyday. And yes, I've tried scrubbing things, but when gunk has been sitting there for so many years, it doesn't come off.
#6 BFF: Swiffer mops-they don't work on tile and I have to consequently mop like twice a day. Well, I should mop twice a day, but I don't. I'm the only one who can see it anyway.
#5 BFF: California-because I hate it here.
#4 BFF: LDS Distribution Center shipping-I ordered some books weeks ago, when I really, really needed the spiritual uplifting things within the covers, but it still hasn't arrived. Poop.
#3 BFF: Gentlemen Broncos-Jared Hess's first two movies were weird, that's what made them so fun to watch, but this one was plain irritating. The main character was endearingly nerdy, and his mother had some very few funny quirks, but everyone else I wanted to run over with a car. And the sci-fi scenes were so long I fast-forwarded. I should have just skipped the whole movie. It was TOO weird to be good and the title didn't make any sense. Good luck getting backing for a fourth movie there buddy.
#2 & #1 Big Fat Fails: Pets dying-this FAIL requires no explanation. It makes you sad, weepy, nauseated, and really pissed off all at the same time. The other BIG FAT FAIL goes to Brad, for leaving on Saturday. Seriously, not only do I become the tallest person in the ward (without heels) but there goes my great friend and guru. As if Utah needs another single Mormon boy. I don't think so. But I need someone to hang out with and tell me I'm not crazy, even though I am. I hate him for leaving but love him to death for everything else.

Today's winners: 1) my cibatta bread for turning out awesome and being devoured by the missionaries and 2) the movie Alice in Wonderland in 3D and Brad for taking me back to the movie snob theater to see it, even though he's already seen it and the theater is expensive.

The curse of Job

Well, I think maybe I should stop reading Job. I started to read it on the advice of one of the elders, the one whose name I can't pronounce so I call him Mi Hermanito Burrito. Not to his face, but in my head. So I started reading it and found that sooooo many things Job was thinking and saying, I've said. Not so Jewishly, but the essentials are the same. And I was thinking, wow, I'm so glad my animals and family weren't killed and I don't have boils. Then I woke up this morning and noticed my face was trying very hard to look like I was going through puberty again. And puberty acne is about as close to boils as I can get. Then this evening my younger sister called and said her puppy was electrocuted and killed. Praise the heavens they weren't in the house, so their lives were saved, but the poor puppy. Bad enough that he died, but his last few minutes were spent in terror. How horrible is that! I don't like having this greater appreciation of Job. I liked the bliss of ignorance. This may sound blasphemous, but after everything that has been happening in the past few months, most especially in the past week and 2 days, I better have a big old fat few months of astonishing blessings coming my way rather soon. Well, I better go check the cibatta bread I just pulled out of the oven. I added a tablespoon of honey to the recipe to see if it makes the bread sweater. With my luck, it probably caused some horrible festering creature to grow and as soon as I cut it open, it will fly out and suck my eyeballs out. Sounds like a 1960s horror movie. Tomorrow better be a good day. I have people coming over for dinner.

Squidward is such a barnacle-Spongebob Squarepants

I would like you to know I had so many deep and profound thoughts today that I was eager to share with my hoards of blogowers. (Blog+followers=blogowers) Yes, I totally just made up that word. Of course, I didn't jot any of them down and so when I finally get to the computer, I have no idea what earth shattering things I had planned on writing. Yesterday I realized I need to stop saying things like "earth shattering" or "earth shaking" to emphasize things in my speech. Considering the fact that I'm in California, that's like begging for an earthquake.
I finished reading the book of Psalms last night. You know, that book is the most often quoted by New Testament apostles and by Christ, but I think it tends to be overlooked by members of the Church today. A lot of it was rather tedious and repetitive, but there were SO many verses that are perfect for trials and tribulation. I have so many post-its on my wall with verses from Psalms written on them. If they all fell off at the same time and landed on my head while I was sleeping, I might be smothered by them. Death by post-it. The joke would no longer be a laughing matter.

Let me eat cake

The gardeners come on Fridays, usually about noon, but I was so out of it this week I forgot it was Friday. I kept hearing something that sounded like cattle bawling and thought it was rather weird to be hearing it in California. Then I realized it was a lawnmower. Then I realized it was coming from the front yard. Then I realized it was the gardeners. Then I realized it must be Friday. Then I realized it took me a long time to realize this. Hmmm. It has been a fairly...eventful week, but not the sort of events that I'd care to throw out into the internet audience, so I'm not entirely sure why I mentioned it. Cest la vie. But one thing I've really been enjoying, probably far too much and far too often than I should, is Pinky and the Brain. I enjoyed it as a young person, (who didnt?) but watching it now I've noticed so many things that are funny only for adults. And it's so quotable! I keep hearing things that I want to put on Facebook. Such is my personality. I pirate my status. Ha!
So earlier this week I made a pan of brownies. We finished it on Thursday. Friday afternoon I made a cake since I had a friend over for dinner. It is Sunday afternoon and the cake is gone. I find this a little funny considering Brad only had one small piece of cake and the rest Olive and I devoured. AN ENTIRE CAKE, ladies and gentlemen. In two days. And all I can think is, "Geez, I want some more cake."

New favorite phrase: "Poop in a group"--nice one Brad

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then this picture should speak loudly, if anyone has any doubts as to what my feelings are regarding my life right now.


Turtles I saw a while back. No reason for the picture. I just thought it was funny that one turtle was sleeping on the back of another.
My most awesome red heels that only cost $10!
My new journal-hand decorated in India. It was like $8.
The books I bought on sale. One is about the most expensive bottle of wine ever purchased at auction that apparently has a bit of a mystery attached to it. One is about Bonnie and Clyde. One is about the Russian master spy that stole secrets from the US AFTER the Cold War was over. One is about a Mafia stool pigeon that landed a bunch of mobsters in jail. The other is about an Irish woman "pirate queen" that caused countless problems for other countries and was super powerful and enemies of Queen Elizabeth. Can't wait to read these.
A ring I bought in the shape of a flower. It gets put on one finger and then rests on its neighbor.
A ring I bought. I couldn't get the camera to focus, but it's a flower of red gems and surrounding silver swirls.

I pretend the squirrels are monkeys and that I'm in the jungle.

Last night I had the most exciting dream. I don't really remember what it was about specifically, but there was a lavish palace involved, betrayal, murder, a surprise twist ending, and so many beautiful fabrics. It started with some people who had bought a run down palace and were fixing it up to make into a hotel. Then the brother of the dead man who had owned it came along with the dead man's son, who (for whatever reason) had been abused and brainwashed into his hired muscle. The uncle was trying to swindle the people out of the palace and using the nephew to scare them. Then (somehow) me and the owners pulled a My Fair Lady on the nephew and made him into a gentleman who realized that he was heir to the throne and the palace rightfully belonged to him, yadda yadda ya. But the uncle was furious at this betrayal and called in the police to arrest the nephew and me and the other people (whoever they were). Very intense part of the dream. I go screaming and rushing into the throng of policemen arresting the nephew, cursing about the injustice of it all, but can't seem to free him. Then I remembered the gargoyles on the edges of the palace have machine guns built into them so that if the house ever came under attack, it would spray bullets everywhere in defense. (Remember this is a dream, so it doesn't have to make sense.) I realize I can grab one of the cop's guns and shoot at the gargoyle and it would activate the machine gun and kill all the cops. I knew the nephew (and rightful king) would be safe because he had already been locked up in the bulletproof paddy wagon, but I also knew I'd probably be killed in the spray of bullets. I heroically fired at the gargoyle, but even in my dreams I'm a terrible shot and missed completely. The sheriff instantly arrests me and says he's taking me in personally, instead he whisks me away to some sort of hotel and puts me in hiding as a maid. (The dream never explains why he suddenly becomes good. Whatever.) So I'm in hiding as a maid to a rich American woman with big hats, and I'm miserable because I believe the nephew/king and his sister (who had somehow come into the picture for the first time) are dead. Meanwhile, the country has been whipped into a frenzy by the evil uncle and they are actively looking for anyone connected with the royal family to kill them, so I am constantly afraid I'll be found out. Then the American lady goes to an auction where they were selling off objects from the palace and she brings back a bunch of scarves, an absolutely beautiful bunch of silk cloth, and a small box. She tells me and the other maid that they had come from the palace of Ariennes. I insist the scarves are far too ugly for Ariennes and that someone had conned her. She shows me the silk cloth and says she was told it was to cover the dining room chairs. I have a hard time keeping the tears at bay because I remembered helping the nephew/king pick the fabric out. "Oh, yes," I say. "THIS is from Ariennes." Then the American lady goes home and leaves me a box for a present. Inside is the cloth with instructions to make a dress and the small box. Inside was a huge diamond ring. The woman left a note saying that she had been well aware all along that I had come from the Palace Ariennes and that I was one of the rightful owners of the cloth. She said she had found the small box wedged into the desk of the nephew/king and from what the rumors had told her, it was going to be mine when I married the king. This makes the dream me cry. The gifts inspire within me a new belief that if I made it out alive, then someone else may have as well, so I go out into the city for the first time to find news. The sheriff sees me in a cafe and slips me two envelopes before leaving wordlessly. Inside one envelope is a letter written by the sister, who states that she had been rescued by the sheriff and was in hiding in a convent and found that she is quite happy among the nuns. The other envelope holds a piece of paper stating that the king had been executed on such and such a date and his body had been shipped to such and such an address. I was determined to see his burial site and so hop a train and arrive at the stated address, only to see that it isn't a graveyard at all. Instead, it's a pawn shop in a very quiet country town. I go into the pawn shop (with it's tinkling bell on the door) and ask the clerk behind the counter if he could give me directions. The clerk, who had had his back to me, stiffens, then turns slowly to face me. It takes a while for the dream me to realize the clerk is the nephew/king, though with very short hair and a scar on his cheek. He limps around the counter, his face a mask of disbelief and suspicion and.....................the freaking dream ends. But I think with a few adjustments this might make for a good book.
So, I went online to find a cute, yet cheap, journal and was surprised to see how few there were. When you walk into Barnes and Noble there are TONS of journals for sale, but few, apparently, make it onto the website. At any rate, I found one, and stumbled upon some great history books on sale, so I bought them. The rest of today really, really sucked and I don't want to talk about it. So.....the end.